Why Don't You Stay
by embracing-shadows
Summary: He wished he could be more than what Nick needed. He wished he could be what Nick wanted.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot!

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Greg wasn't sure how it had started. The first few times it had happened blurred together in his memory until he could no longer tell which one was the real first. Greg had fallen in love with Nick within moments of meeting him, even if he'd never said a word. A couple years later Nick had gotten married to a red haired beauty and Greg had stood as one of his groomsmen. Then somewhere in between the moments Nick had started showing up on his doorstep, and they had begun an affair. They never spoke of why. They never spoke of when. In fact, they never spoke of it at all. Nick would show up on Greg's doorstep with that look in his eyes and Greg would open the door wider. As soon as they were alone and the locks were all in place Greg would find himself against a wall or pinned to the bed by a hungry Texan.

Afterwards sometimes they would lie together, but it was rare. Greg cherished these moments when he would get to hold Nick tight and pretend that the man was his. Inevitably he always went back to his pretty little wife, and Greg always watched him go in silence. He always sat for hours afterwards and stared at his wall, too weary to cry. It had been three years and countless times, and he still hadn't found the strength. He couldn't walk away; Nick was his drug, his greatest weakness. He knew that no matter how many times he told himself this would be the last time, he would never be able to say no.

He never said anything to Nick. He was sure that, to the older man, it was just sex. This was something that his wife couldn't give him, so he sought it from Greg instead. It meant nothing but a physical high every once in a while. He was totally unaware of the pain it was causing Greg. He was completely oblivious to the fact that Greg had loved him all along, that it was slowly driving him insane. Greg usually liked it that way. He was terrified most of the time that if Nick knew he would pull away. But lately, he could feel himself wearing down. Greg could feel his spirit stripped away a little more every time Nick used him, leaving without a word afterwards.

So that's how he came to be here, sitting on his couch with the lights off and his fourth beer dangling loosely from his hand. The apartment was dark and cold, but he ignored the shivering that had come over him. He would prefer to feel pain than to feel numb. He was so damn tired of feeling numb. He took another giant gulp of his beer as Nick's face swam up in front of his eyes, trying to chase the man away, but it did nothing so he finished the drink off and grabbed the next from the table.

_I've been sitting here  
Staring at the clock on the wall  
And I've been laying here praying  
Praying she won't call  
It's just another call from home  
And you'll get it and be gone  
And I'll be crying_

The bittersweet melody of a country song was playing from his stereo. Years ago he would never have listened to country, even with a gun held to his head. But lately he had found solace in the slow strains of love songs. His iPod had picked up a collection of music that was very unlike him, but it kept him going in his down moments. It was like a small connection to Nick, even if the older man had no idea that he did this. The small device was currently wired in to his radio and set on repeat, playing the same song over and over. Greg closed his eyes and let the words fill him up.

_And I'll be begging you, baby  
Beg you not to leave  
But I'll be left here waiting  
With my heart on my sleeve  
Oh, for the next time we'll be here  
Seems like a million years  
And I think I'm dying  
_

He longed to have the strength to beg Nick not to go. Every time he returned to his wife in their perfect little home it was like a bullet in his heart. Greg knew what bullets felt like. He had been shot on the job last year when one of the cops with him failed to completely clear the room he was working in. Nick hadn't even visited him in the hospital, and no one had guessed that his depression had nothing to do with his injury. But what could be expected? It was just sex after all; no strings attached.

Over the last few months Greg knew that he was breaking down. Sooner or later it would come to a head and he would let slip how he felt about Nick. But for now he was content to sit in his living room and fade away alone. The floor at his feet was littered with empty bottles from the past few days, and the table in front of him was lined with rapidly thawing fresh bottles, just waiting for him to drown in them. The fifth in his hand disappeared quickly and he reached for the next. It wasn't the best solution, but it was the only one he had. He didn't even have anyone to turn to. No one knew about it. It was a silent agreement that Greg only went along with so he wouldn't hurt Nick.

_What do I have to do to make you see  
She can't love you like me?_

It was hopeless to think that this song could be anything like him and Nick, Greg knew that. But he couldn't help but identify with it. Which was why it had been playing in his ears over and over for an hour or more. He couldn't help but think that he _could_ love Nick better than any woman ever could. He would kill for Nick, die for Nick. He would walk to Texas and back to bring him a little piece of home if only he would ask. But Greg knew that Nick would never ask. Greg wasn't what he wanted; only what he needed. The saying went that there was a fine line between love and hate, and Greg couldn't help thinking that they had been walking down that line the whole time. At any moment Nick would realize what was happening and he would waver. The slightest sensation could throw them off balance and they would fall on different sides of the line.

If there was any chance at all that it could turn out to be a happy ending, Greg would have tried to find a way to make Nick see all these things years ago. He would have tried words, or actions, or an anonymous letter, or something. Anything. But even from the start he had known that that chance was less than zero percent. It was in the negative percentile. So he had never tried, never tried to try, never even considered it.

_Why don't you stay  
I'm down on my knees  
I'm so tired of being lonely  
Don't I give you what you need  
When she calls you to go  
There is one thing you should know  
We don't have to live this way  
Baby, why don't you stay_

Greg stared in to the bottle in his hand and wondered how he had let himself digress to this over one person. A person who obviously didn't even want the same things he wanted. He was starting to realize that all those people in movies and books were real. People did go through this; this feeling that the world was crumbling around you and all you could do was sit in the path of the fire, just waiting. Unable to move to save yourself because that one person had told you to stay, and you would do anything for them. Nick was his fairytale, but everyone knows fairytales don't come true.

The image of himself on his knees pleading with Nick burst in front of his eyes and Greg squeezed them shut, trying to ignore the small burning sensation gathering in behind them. The music notes were so thick in the air he could almost feel them on his skin, and he couldn't believe that after all this time, he was finally going to cry. He hadn't cried in so long that he wondered what it would feel like now. Would it be slow and soft and bittersweet? Or would it be violent, wracking, life-changing? He got his answer as the first tear slipped from between his eyelids and moved slowly down his cheek, almost caressingly. Nick never caressed him. The loneliness did.

And now he had the vision of Nick caressing him, and it was making more tears fall. He didn't make a sound, but suddenly he was overflowing. He sat on his couch, alone in the cold darkness, and opened himself up at long last. It was time.

_You keep telling me, baby  
There will come a time  
When you will leave her arms  
And forever be in mine  
But I don't think that's the truth  
And I don't like being used and I'm tired of waiting  
It's too much pain to have to bear  
To love a man you have to share_

Of course, Nick had never said any of those things to him. But the second half of the verse struck chords in him that he had ignored time after time. He knew Nick was using him, but at the same time he knew that he wanted it. He knew he would deal with any amount of pain life could give just to be used one more time, to feel Nick moving against him and be able to pretend for just one more moment that it was real. He knew in the end reality would always crash back in and Nick's phone would ring. But those moments of pretending were what he was surviving on.

Was it horrible for him to wish that Nick would leave that redhead for him? He would be a home wrecker. The girl probably had some male relatives that would find him and hurt him. Not Nick, no one could ever hurt that soft-spoken charming Texas man. No, this was all Greg's fault, and Greg had accepted that from the beginning. This whole mess was his fault. Nick probably blamed him too. He should have stayed in San Francisco.

_Why don't you stay  
I'm down on my knees  
I'm so tired of being lonely  
Don't I give you what you need  
When she calls you to go  
There is one thing you should know  
We don't have to live this way  
Baby, why don't you stay_

Greg could see in his minds eye the perfect house with a white picket fence out front and a horse ranch out back. He could see a black Stetson hanging up by the front door right next to a misplaced bottle of hair gel. He could see adopted children running to and fro, one wearing surf shirts and the other wearing checkered shirts. The fact that it was all an illusion made no difference, he still dreamt about it. Greg hung his head and stared in to his bottle again, wishing that there were even a sliver of a chance of his dreams coming true. His only solace was that there was still some beer in the bottom, and he was quick to finish it off; quicker to grab the next.

Bottle number seven slowed his tears, but not by very much. Greg stared ahead at the wall, at the blank television screen, and wondered exactly what Nick was doing right now. He was probably bedding down with his wonderful wife, a woman any straight guy in the world would be jealous of, and he was probably kissing her goodnight. Maybe they were doing more than kissing. Greg's stomach heaved, but he settled it with another swig. He wished he could be more than what Nick needed. He wished he could be what Nick wanted, what Nick had to have to keep sane. But he was forced to admit that if he left, Nick would just find someone else to give him his physical fix. He drank again.

_I can't take it any longer  
But my will is getting stronger  
And I think I know just what I have to do  
I can't waste another minute  
After all that I've put in it  
I've given you my best  
Why does she get the best of you  
So next time you find  
You want to leave her bed for mine_

It was this last verse that at the same time made him cry harder and dredged up the urge to laugh outrageously. He knew he was wearing down, but Greg was sure he would never actually reach the point where he could leave. He wasn't strong enough for that. He would never be strong enough for that. And even if sometimes he wished he were, those moments were always very fleeting. Because he thought that if he were ever to leave, he would inevitably end up crawling back on his knees. And by then he might have lost the connection. The thought had him shuddering.

And then a different thought took a hold of him. That one line held so much truth that his tears sprang fresh. He had given the best of himself to Nick. He had sacrificed everything of himself, his life, his happiness, his love. But Nick gave himself away to someone else. It was as if he knew just how to hurt Greg the most and set about to do it intentionally. It couldn't be that he really had no idea. How could one person do this much damage by accident?

_Why don't you stay  
I'm up off my knees  
I'm so tired of being lonely  
You can't give me what I need  
When she begs you not to go  
There is one thing you should know  
I don't have to live this way  
Baby, why don't you stay, yeah_

Maybe Greg didn't have to live this way, but he chose to. He chose to stay here, time after time, just waiting for the next. Praying that someday he would be able to make some sense out of it all. The only sense he had so far was the sense that this would destroy him. It seemed as of everyone else in the world but Nick could tell that he was self-destructing. So many times he had fielded questions on why he had changed, why he was suddenly so quiet and dark and low. Why he suddenly drank all the time, and never went out to parties, and never went on dates.

How could they know that it was Nick doing this to him, when he was forbidden to tell them anything about their arrangement? Their affair. He evaded his friends and family, passing his sleeplessness off with different excuses. He explained away his behavior, saying that maybe he was just finally growing up. Whether or not he was fooling anyone he didn't know and didn't care. All that mattered was the next time Nick would show up on his doorstep to seek his body.

As the song ended and started up again, Greg missed the sound of his door opening and shutting, and the footsteps that slowly wound their way in to the home. He hadn't even heard the pounding on the door for the past ten minutes. He was so far in to the music and the bottles that he was beyond anything but listening to the words floating from his stereo. He cried softly as he silently mouthed along with the song, not singing because he knew his voice would break if he tried.

It took two more times of the song running through for his watery gaze to fall upon the dark work shoes he knew so well, standing across the room from him. He stopped rocking back and forth, briefly wondering when he had started in the first place, and lowered the bottle he had just raised to his lips. There was Nick, his hands in his pockets and his face full of confused wonder. They stared at each other while the song played once more, an entire way through. Greg searched and searched for something to say, and when he finally found something, he didn't even realize he was speaking until he heard his own voice over the music.

"Been listening to it all day. There's only two differences, you know?" he could hear himself saying. He wasn't sure exactly what he was talking about, so he settled for just listening to hear what else would come out. Nick's attention was piqued by the words. "The biggest difference would be that you don't say those things, and you don't feel that way. There's no dilemma for you, because you know who you want. Her." He paused and took a breath, never breaking eye contact. "And the other difference is that…even if I wanted to…I can't leave. Because I need you too much for that. And I know I never told you. I've always been afraid that if I told you it would ruin everything and I would be left with nothing. I guess I'm just drunk, and I have no idea what's going on in my life anymore." Finally he broke his gaze away and he stared down at his bare feet, splayed on the wooden floor.

The music cut off suddenly as Nick reached over and pressed the stop button. Greg closed his eyes, realizing he was still crying, and listening to the single footstep. Almost like Nick wanted to come closer but was hesitating. The thought almost made him chortle because Nick never hesitated about anything in his life. He knew what he wanted, he went for it, and he got it. Simple as that. Not like Greg; Greg had always wanted the untouchable. He had always wanted Nick, and Nick was untouchable.

"Warrick was asking me about you," Nick murmured in the silence, the room empty in the absence of the loud music. "Says you've been going down hill for some time now. I don't…I don't know how I never noticed it Greg. I'm sorry." He paused for a very long time, and Greg wondered where he was going with that thought. "Why?" the question jumped in to the air and burst with the brilliance of fireworks, and suddenly Greg was breaking. Finally he was breaking. His quiet cries turned to quiet sobs.

"I wish I could be what you want Nick," Greg spoke in to his beer bottle. "I wish I was good enough for you. I know I'm not, and sometimes it helps that a part of me is what you need. But you don't really need me after all, do you? If not me, it would have been someone else. I just…I wish I could have told you that I wanted you all along, even if you never wanted me. And I wish…" he paused and sniffed, momentarily unable to go on.

Slow footsteps approached him and he could feel Nick sit beside him on the couch, leaning forward to mimic his posture. Their bodies were so close he could feel the heat coming off the older man and he closed his eyes, welcoming it, wondering if he would get one last chance to revel in it. This was the defining moment, where Nick decided if he was still worthy of serving his addiction.

"What do you wish Greg?" Nick asked him softly. His eyes opened in surprise and he met his once friend's gaze. For a few seconds they stared at each other, then Greg blinked and more tears slid down his face. Everything he had held in came rushing up to the surface and spilling out in one simple sentence.

"I wish you could love me back, Nick," he whispered. Nick's eyes widened and his breath caught, but Greg refused to look away. He had revealed himself, and after so much weakness he needed to be strong for just this once. While it all fell apart he would stand in the path of the fire where Nick had placed him. He would let the fire consume him and he would not waver. Nick seemed caught up in the same flame. He was barely drawing breath as he stared at Greg in complete shock. That was fine. The longer he remained in shock, the longer it took him to reject Greg.

It seemed as if it took forever for something to happen, for Nick to move. Greg fancied that he could almost hear the Texan's heartbeat, strong and rapid in his throat. The heat of his body had risen a couple degrees, and his breathing was still shallow. Greg took these moments to memorize every detail about him. He wore his favorite worn jeans, snug to his form. Tucked in to them was one of his favorite shirts, red with long sleeves and a black stripe around the chest. Greg's eyes took in the slope of his shoulders, the lines of many muscles, the slight stubble on his cheek, the smooth expanse of his neck, and everything else he never allowed himself to talk about but spent hours thinking of.

Finally Nick moved. He took a deep steadying breath and rocked back in the seat, tearing their gazes apart for a moment and looking all around him as if seeing it for the first time. It struck them both that he had been here so many times and never stopped to really take it in. Now he took in the unnatural cleanliness of the home, and the absence of evidence that anyone but Greg had been in here in a very long time. He took in the lack of photos, and the abundance of empty bottles. Then he looked back to Greg, and the younger man knew exactly what he was seeing.

He was seeing the dark circles under his eyes that had grown so heavy they looked like bruises. He was seeing all the weight lost because Greg couldn't eat anymore. He was seeing the bone-weariness, because Greg was tired of life. He was seeing hopelessness, and loneliness, and emptiness. Greg knew what he was suddenly realizing too. He was realizing that he had seen every separate sign and never connected them together. He was realizing that Greg was unhappy, and slowly wasting away. And he was probably realizing that it was all for him. Not because of him, just for him.

"I should have known," he said, but Greg looked away and shook his head.

"No, you should never have known," he contradicted the man. Nick assumed a confused look and Greg sighed. "I was never supposed to tell you Nick. Because now you'll turn away and find someone else to need. Because now I'm going to lose you and I've already got a spot booked in the psych ward for it." He didn't really, but they both understood what he meant. Nick took a very deep breath and let it out slowly, getting up and walking across the room. Greg watched him silently until he waved his hand around at the walls.

"Why don't you have any pictures up?" Greg blinked at the slightly out of context question, but answered it anyway.

"Because you would be in all of them," he admitted truthfully. Nick turned and his brows were deeply furrowed, not understanding Greg's reasoning.

"So?" he asked, making Greg look at him like the answer should have been apparent.

"But you don't want to be on my wall Nick." He had thought it was so obvious, so logical, but the look on Nick's face was hard for him to decipher. The older man's eyebrows went up slightly and his mouth dropped open, his eyes going very wide and unfathomable. Greg shook his head and looked down at his own feet, suddenly realizing that this was the most they had ever talked outside of work. Words were never Nick's big thing in bed, and Greg tried to respect that. He always ended up biting his own lips to keep from crying out Nick's name, and babbling as he would, and revealing all his secret desires.

Nick scuffed his foot on the hardwood, absently toeing his shoes off when he realized he was still wearing them. He took slow steps back to where Greg was sitting and pushed all the beer bottles out of the way so he could sit on the coffee table facing him. The Texan pushed his hair back from his forehead and looked up at Greg. Greg just watched him, waiting. He almost had a heart attack when suddenly Nick reached out and pushed his hair away from his face too, almost tenderly.

"It's not that I don't want to be on your wall Greg," he whispered, his voice low and shaky. "It's just that I'm scared to be. I have a wife, and I never looked at another man. But seeing you standing there while I said my vows made everything all wrong. I don't know how I ever found the guts to do it the first time, and I never thought you'd actually let me in. But every time I show up at your door it's like world war three inside me. I'm so scared of what I'm feeling and so confused by what I'm doing. But then you always open the door and give me this look that tells me that it's ok. It's right. You scare me so much because…because I don't know what to feel anymore."

All Greg could do was stare as his tears came ever faster, ever harder, and his breath became harder to find. He had nothing to say to that, so he held his silence like he always did. He let his lover collect his thoughts and tried to refrain from throwing himself at a wall or bursting in to a reckless weep-a-thon. One of the two; he felt like doing both.

"I've always known what to feel," they were both surprised when it was him to finally break the silence, "but I always thought it was wrong to you." Nick sighed and ran a hand through his hair again.

"I was raised…that it was wrong…you know, I never stopped to wonder what this meant to you." They looked at each other and Nick tried to look a little deeper than he ever had before. He found what he was looking for, even if he didn't like it. He could see the pain this was causing and right there he made a snap decision. He reached out a hand and placed it on Greg's knee. "I could try…" he didn't finish the sentence, but he didn't have to because Greg knew what he meant. His eyes widened and he began to tremble.

"Really?" he whispered. Nick nodded and Greg looked down in to his lap, a tiny smile forming on his lips. He began to think that maybe fairytales come true after all.


	2. Chapter 2

A fairytale is a funny thing. It took a long time for Greg to realize as a little boy that not all fairytales have happy endings. And it took even longer for him to realize in life that this was one of those fairytales. But such was life, as he continued on as if nothing was wrong, doing his best to fool those around him in to thinking he was happy. He wasn't. He was falling apart from the inside out, desperate for someone to reach out to. He couldn't though because there was still that unspoken rule. They were still a secret. They would always be a secret; no matter what Nick told him. No matter what he promised when they held each other in the dark of Greg's bedroom.

They _were_ just like the song now, Greg realized. A year ago he had sat in this same spot and listened to that sad song and reflected that it would only ever be partly true. The irony was not lost on the man that now it was entirely true. Nick had said that he would try, and he did. But here they were another year down the road and nothing had changed outside his small apartment. Although they talked now, and they cuddled and whispered endearments, they were still the same. Nick was still married, still responded to his wife's phone calls. No one knew about them. And Nick still hadn't stopped to consider what it was doing to Greg.

So here he was again, and the same song was playing in his stereo on repeat. Only this time it was quieter, not playing at such a raging volume. The floor around him was clear and the coffee table held no beer bottles. Greg had given up trying to escape that way a long time ago, mostly because Nick had asked him to and Greg would do anything for Nick. Even if the man had failed to realize it. The lyrics floated around the room and for a while Greg was able to ignore them and their truths, focusing instead on how absolutely exhausted he was of life. He had slowed down noticeably to the point where instead of just gossiping about it, people had begun asking him about it.

But what could he tell them? That Nick promised time and again that someday they could really be together, and yet always went home to his perfect little charade life? That Greg cried now, almost every time? Their friends at work had no idea that his problems had anything to do with Nick. In the field they were always professional, even a little cold. How could anyone know they were even friends, let alone fuck buddies? That was the term Greg had begun using behind Nick's back. They were fuck buddies, no matter what the older man tried to say. They weren't lovers, because to be lovers there has to be love going both ways. And Greg was convinced that the love still only came from one side.

Eventually the song battered its way in to his head, by determined repetitiousness if nothing else. Last time Greg had tried not to cry, just tried to drink it all away. This time he was far beyond the point of caring. He had given himself away time after time and received nothing in return. He didn't have far enough left to fall to even care anymore about the pride of not crying. He sniffled as he freely let the first tear meander its way down to his chin and splash on his hands. Like always, it was like breaking down the barriers and letting out a river.

The first tear was quickly followed by another, and another, until his eyes were streaming constantly. The sound of something rattling around in his lock didn't perturb him. Nick had his own key now, and sometimes he would surprise Greg after work by beating him there. It didn't matter if the Texan saw him crying and listening to this song again. Nothing mattered anymore, when he was in this mood. So he didn't even bother calling out a greeting when the door opened and a figure stepped in to the darkness. They seemed on high alert, and Greg was startled when a second figure stepped in after him. The door closed and the two figures tiptoed in quietly.

The light switch was flicked suddenly and Greg's eyes widened when he took in who was really coming in to his home. Two strange men, both dressed as nondescriptly as possible. One was a brunette, and the other was a redhead. The redhead had a lock pick dangling from his thick fingers, and the other man had an empty gym bag swinging off his shoulder. They stared right back at Greg in surprise.

"Shit! Thought this place was empty!" The redhead had a harsh voice, and Greg barely reacted when suddenly the lock pick was dropped, replaced by a slim black gun. The gun pointed unwaveringly at his own face. Greg blinked and tilted his head, only curious. Fear didn't even try and register in his mind. Nothing mattered when he was in this mood. The two men stared at him in trepidation until he chuckled and leaned back.

"Going to shoot me huh?" he asked calmly "Don't I get a last phone call or something?" The two men stared at him like he was loony, but he could see the manic glint in their eyes. These guys had killed before, and they wouldn't hesitate to do so again. He couldn't be let live now that he had seen them. Here were two people who would do anything not to pay for their crimes. If it had been another day, Greg might not have felt this way. And if it had been perhaps a year ago, Greg might have not acted this way. But he had hit his breaking point a long time ago, and he recognized this as the opportunity he had been waiting for. The one with the gun let out a cruel laugh.

"Sure thing blondie. You want a last phone call you go right ahead. You're dying anyway and we'll be long gone before anyone gets here. Mark, go see what you can find around the place." The brunette nodded curtly and took off to rummage through Greg's things. He couldn't have cared less. He was about to die, what need did he have of valuables? It wasn't like he could take them with him in to the afterlife. Not that Greg believed in the afterlife, that was more Nick's scene. At the thought of Nick, Greg was struck by a sudden idea. He ran it by his captor, who only laughed at him and flippantly said he didn't care either way.

So Greg made two phone calls. The first one was rather short, and had the redhead with the gun laughing uncontrollably, although not hard enough to made the weapon waver from Greg's face. The second phone call rang three times before a mildly surprised voice picked up their end.

"Turn on your radio Nick," Greg urged his buddy. Nick asked him why but he only smiled sadly at the black barrel staring at him. "I'll miss you," he replied without answering any questions. Then he hung up and leaned across to his stereo system. The CD stopped playing when he switched the setting to radio and fiddled with the tuning dial. It landed on a country station and he sat back in to the cushions, not caring in the slightest that his eyes were welling up with tears again. The slow strains of a familiar song started coming out and, even though his voice cracked, Greg sang along.

_I've been sitting here  
Staring at the clock on the wall  
And I've been laying here praying  
Praying she won't call  
It's just another call from home  
And you'll get it and be gone  
And I'll be crying_

In his house not too far away, Nick stared at the phone in his hand and wondered what the hell had just happened. Either way, his radio was already turned on to his favorite station. His head suddenly whipped around to stare at it and the phone dropped to the floor when the next song started to play. It was the same song. He couldn't believe it. That day was burned in to his brain in minute detail, and he often woke from bad dreams concerning it.

His wife, sitting across the room, asked him what was wrong, but he ignored her. His attention was suddenly riveted to the music and the lyrics that it was playing. Now that he and Greg had started actually having a _relationship_ instead of just having sex, he knew so much more about the younger man; including the fact that he wished Nick didn't have to leave every time. Truth be told, Nick never wanted to leave. He was just so damn terrified of staying.

Sometimes as he left, he thought he could hear Greg start to cry, but he always shook his head and dismissed it. He was forced to admit that it was just his classic form of denial. He didn't want to think that he was hurting Greg, so he just refused to believe it. But of course he was hurting him; Greg had told Nick on that day a year ago that he loved him, and that he had always wished that Nick could love him too. And even though they had whispered the words to each other in a dark bedroom many times, Nick was suddenly faced with the fact that it was hard to believe a whisper.

_And I'll be begging you, baby  
Beg you not to leave  
But I'll be left here waiting  
With my heart on my sleeve  
Oh, for the next time we'll be here  
Seems like a million years  
And I think I'm dying_

Greg did protest sometimes when Nick's phone rang with his home number on the caller ID. So many times he had seemed on the verge of grabbing the offending object that kept separating them and smashing it, but he never did. He would never do anything to hurt Nick. He wore his emotions, not on his sleeve, but so obvious in his eyes. It was always there, that he wished he could find the strength to beg Nick not to go, to find the right words to convince him to stay. Nick completely agreed that every time they were together, it always felt like forever until the next time would come around that they were able to get another chance to meet.

_What do I have to do to make you see  
She can't love you like me?_

His wife was coming closer, looking at him funny and saying something that he couldn't hear. His ears were full of the words of the lead singer of Sugarland, whose voice had an awful fake southern twang. The woman here though, his wife, she was perfect in the eyes of any normal guy. She had thick red hair falling down over her shoulder and exotic green eyes. Her mouth was small and naturally cherry red. She was trim and petite. And she was all wrong.

When she held him gently with her soft arms, it was lacking. When her small mouth kissed him and immediately gave in to his control is wasn't as nice. The way she never said a word when watching a movie and had perfect table manners was just so boring and weird that Nick found himself wishing to be somewhere else, somewhere very specific. Because Greg really did love him better than her. He loved him in a way that was rough and ready and complete. He gave himself to Nick in a way that said 'here I am, I am all yours, to do with as you will'. Not even his wife had done that. She had threatened to not go through with the wedding if he didn't include one of her brothers as a groomsman. Greg had loved him already, but had stood there and stayed silent because he thought it would make Nick happy.

_Why don't you stay  
I'm down on my knees  
I'm so tired of being lonely  
Don't I give you what you need  
When she calls you to go  
There is one thing you should know  
We don't have to live this way  
Baby, why don't you stay_

She was right there in front of him now and he could barely see her. He could see someone else in her place with short blonde hair and wild clothes and big brown eyes. Why didn't he stay? After all this time, why didn't he just go for what he wanted? He knew without a doubt that Greg would welcome him with open arms, should he ever decide to finally take a chance. And it struck him how absolutely horrid this whole thing must be for the younger man, who had to sit back and watch Nick leave time and again.

He really didn't have to do any of this, and yet he chose to because he loved Nick that much. Nick raised his hands to cover his face and when he suddenly heard hurried echoes he realized that he was breathing way too fast. He could feel the heartbeat in his chest striking a rapid staccato against his ribs.

_You keep telling me, baby  
There will come a time  
When you will leave her arms  
And forever be in mine  
But I don't think that's the truth  
And I don't like being used and I'm tired of waiting  
It's too much pain to have to bear  
To love a man you have to share_

Nick was forced to admit that he wouldn't be able to do it. He wouldn't be able to be with someone knowing that he didn't have all of them. So how was Greg able to survive, knowing that the one he loved bedded down every night with someone else, knowing that he didn't have all of Nick? He sighed as he thought of all the times they had laid awake and talked about him leaving his wife. They had even planned different things like how he would say he was leaving her, where Nick's things would go in Greg's apartment, what things he would ask for in the divorce. The younger man was always very enthusiastic about these talks, and yet there was always a hopeless undertone to his voice. As if he didn't really believe the truth of it.

Standing here and listening to this old song all over again was bringing everything in to focus for Nick, just like it had last time. The Texan wasn't sure why he had remained so dense, or why it kept taking Greg reaching out to him like this, but now he could see everything from the other man's point of view. Again. He was seeing everything his lover said or did with a brand new clarity, and suddenly feeling all the hidden depths of those things.

_Why don't you stay  
I'm down on my knees  
I'm so tired of being lonely  
Don't I give you what you need  
When she calls you to go  
There is one thing you should know  
We don't have to live this way  
Baby, why don't you stay_

_I can't take it any longer  
But my will is getting stronger  
And I think I know just what I have to do  
I can't waste another minute  
After all that I've put in it  
I've given you my best  
Why does she get the best of you  
So next time you find  
You want to leave her bed for mine_

Nick's hands dropped from his face and his wife seemed a little surprised by the determined look that he was wearing now. There it was, the verse that he had dreaded and yet anxiously awaited. It was those words that made everything fall in to place in his head. It had been so long, so long that they had played this horrible game, that it was bound to come to a head sooner rather than later. It was already later. And now he knew that he had to do something and fast if he wanted to keep Greg in his life. He wasn't so sure that Greg wasn't as weak as he thought himself to be. The blonde was getting close to his breaking point, and Nick was terrified of what would happen when he reached it.

His wife jumped in fright at his sudden movement when he stepped decisively around her towards the door. Greg sending this song to him was like a message that Nick interpreted as his last chance to set everything straight. It was time for his final choice, and he knew where he needed to be to make it. He ignored his spouse's worried words as he pulled on his shoes and haphazardly tied the laces. His coat was yanked off its hanger and he remained deaf to her voice still. He was just about to deliver some excuse about work like he always did when he suddenly stopped himself.

"I'm going to see Greg," he told her in a strong voice. It meant nothing to her, though it caught her unaware, and yet it meant everything to him. And hopefully it would mean something to his blonde lover when he told him about it. Nick raced out of the house and hopped in his truck without waiting for a reply, the stereo system coming to life, tuned to the same station. Nick backed out of the driveway at lightening speeds and flew down the street with the ending of the song echoing in his ears.

_Why don't you stay  
I'm up off my knees  
I'm so tired of being lonely  
You can't give me what I need  
When she begs you not to go  
There is one thing you should know  
I don't have to live this way  
Baby, why don't you stay, yeah_

It was probably a warning, and Nick had never been one to ignore warning signs. If nothing else he was a safe man; which was probably why he had let this whole situation go on for so long. He had stayed with his wife because she was safe and expected, not to mention accepted. His parents had beamed so proudly on the day of the wedding, and Nick had shuddered many times to imagine their faces should he tell them he was leaving her for a man. It was one of the things that had held him back.

There weren't very many roads or turns between his place and Greg's so it was a matter of minutes before Nick was pulling up outside the familiar apartment complex. The residences here were pretty nice, fitting fewer apartments in to each building than was the norm because they were all pretty large. Greg's was on the third floor, and Nick took the stairs to get up there, refusing like he always did to even look at the elevator. For some reason today it was like the stairs had tripled in number, and it took him three day past forever to get to the top. Once he was up there, even though he knew almost all of this floor belonged to Greg's apartment, the door to actually get in was at the other end of the hallway.

Nick had his hand buried deep within his pocket to fish out his keys as he approached the entrance when suddenly he stopped. His keys were unneeded because the door was wide open and Greg's door was _never_ left open. The inside was dark, although soft music was playing somewhere. Greg's music was not soft or quiet. Nick's CSI senses kicked in to high gear right away, and on instinct he pulled his gun from the holster he still wore on his hip from work. His back pocket yielded the pair of rubber gloves he tried to always keep on him as well, just in case situations like this came up. He pulled the gloves on, turned off the safety on his gun and never took his eyes off the door.

It was open wide enough for him to slip in without making a noise and he did so as quickly as possible. The front hallway and the kitchen were dark as the nighttime outside, but he could see light coming from the living room and he moved in that direction, checking everywhere at once and holding his gun in both hands. All his stealth training came out on instinct, making his footsteps silent and his breathing shallow. Something was very wrong in here, and he was petrified to find out what. As he drew closer to the light he became aware of voices. They were garbled, but one of them was quite familiar. He slipped closer and turned the doorknob without a sound.

"I told you to get down on your knees," a harsh voice greeted his ears as the door cracked open. Nick's eyes widened as he peeked in to gain his bearings. Greg was standing by the radio, his head hung low, but his back straight and defiant. He was staring balefully from underneath the hair hanging in his face, right down the barrel of a gun. He seemed completely unafraid however; more like amused.

"No," he croaked, his voice hoarse. The man holding the gun was tall with red hair and commonplace clothing. Nothing really extraordinary was on him that could identify him later. Nick filed this information away in his brain, running completely on auto pilot, and paused to take further stock of the situation. Suddenly a second man strolled in from the direction of the bedroom, and Nick was glad he had waited. The second man could easily have surprised him had he burst in unaware and quite easily taken him out. He was pretty built, and he carried a heavy looking gym bag.

"Everything worth it is in here," the brunette man said. "Shoot him and let's take off." Nick started at how blunt the statement was, but neither the redhead nor Greg seemed fazed by it. Greg, to Nick's complete astonishment, smirked a bit. The redhead clenched his hand around the gun a couple times as if in contemplation of something.

"Why are you so unafraid?" he asked out of nowhere. Nick was wondering the same thing. He was stopped from bursting in to the rescue by that question. Greg's answer bought him more time to make a plan, and he was making minute revisions to the one he already had when suddenly he froze at Greg's reply.

"I am ready to die," was his simply answer. The redheaded man laughed outrageously and Nick stared through the crack with his jaw almost hitting the floor. The words had been delivered with such honesty and calm that he could only realize that they were completely true.

"Very well then, die," the gun raised and before Nick had a chance to activate his plan, a horrible cracking explosion rent the air in the apartment.

"GREG NO!" Nick burst in to motion, shoulder the door open and throwing himself through it. His own gun went off and it struck the redhead in the heart. The brunette scrambled for something in his back pocket, which could only be his own weapon, but Nick was faster. His gun went off again, catching the man right in the middle of the forehead. They were both on the ground in seconds, and Nick looked over to Greg. The blonde was still standing and for a moment Nick thought that the redhead's shot had missed him.

And then he looked down to see a sea of red blossoming across his chest. Unable to compute that, he looked back up. Greg had the most serene look on his face, as if all his troubles had just been solved. He slowly raised his head to look Nick in the eye. As soon as their gazes met, the man who had shot him lifted his head from the floor, still marginally alive. He shakily raised his gun and with his last breath pulled the trigger, then shuddered and died.

Nick could only watch as time slowed down. The second bullet slammed in to Greg's chest on the opposite side of the first one. His shoulder flew back and his whole body rippled just like in the movies. He wavered once more, and then he met Nick's eyes again. And he smiled. It was warm and beautiful and completely peaceful for the first time in so long. As he started to fall, he reached out his hand longingly toward Nick, but his eyes were already closing and within seconds he was on his back on the floor, smiling up at the ceiling as if he were only sleeping.

It took seconds longer for Nick to react. It had all happened so fast, he wasn't sure if he was dreaming or not. This all had to be a nightmare. But even in his nightmares he wouldn't be able to stand it if Greg died. That thought forced him in to action, and he tore the radio from his belt.

"Control, control, who ever is listening I need all units at Reiter Avenue, complex six, apartment nine. Officer down, I repeat officer down." He paused a moment and suddenly a sobbed wracked his body. "Grissom please, Greg's been shot again." He couldn't even be sure that his boss was anywhere near a scanner, but his brain was rapidly losing all rational thoughts. He dropped the radio beside him as he dropped himself to his knees and grasped desperately for Greg. His chest was completely covered in blood, and Nick was absently glad that he had worn gloves. He wasn't contaminating the scene. Behind him the radio gave one last squawk.

"Hold on Nicky, we're coming," Grissom's voice barely registered because Nick was sobbing and holding Greg closer. His eyes were still closed and he was smiling without a care in the world. His voice saying that he was ready to die replayed over and over again in Nick's head as he pleaded with his lover to wake up, please wake up. He felt for a pulse and found a weak one fluttering in the neck. He stripped off his shirt and used it to put pressure on the wounds, even as he hugged Greg close to himself.

It didn't take more than a couple minutes for PD to get there and the medics were only seconds behind. Right behind them came Grissom with Warrick in tow. Nick could only look up at them, his face drowning in hopelessness, and cry harder. For a few seconds he could see them pause at the look on Greg's face, then they were shoved out of the way as the paramedics came over to take the blonde to an ambulance. Nick didn't want to let go but they forced him to, and Grissom laid a restraining hand on his arm. He turned to look at his supervisor, then down at himself. His own chest was smeared with Greg's blood, and looking at it his stomach heaved. He had time to stumble two steps out of the way before he was throwing up violently on the floor.

Warrick patted his back but Nick couldn't even feel it. All he could hear in his head was a ghastly mixture of the words of that song and the sound of a gunshot and Greg's voice saying he was ready to die. Nick was not ready for Greg to die.


	3. Chapter 3

There was a constant rhythmic beeping somewhere around him, and it was trying its very best to pull him out of a deep sleep. Greg fought to fall back in to the darkness and succeeded, if only marginally. The beeping receded until it was so faint he almost drifted away again, but then another rhythm started up and he was kept on the brink of oblivion by the two out of sync patterns. Neither cadence was very fast, but they were consistent and slightly annoying, and he wondered if he could just make them stop if he would be able to fall back in to the dark.

Greg tried to draw a large breath and was surprised when his body didn't respond. His breath was coming in a rhythm as steady and consistent as the beeping, as if a respirator were forcing him to make the basic action. His eyelids didn't respond when he suddenly wanted them to fly open. The events of his last lucid moments came flooding in and he wondered if he wasn't still alive in some hospital. Probably Desert Palms, because it was the best and it was usually the one that CSI's got taken to. If he was still alive, he was a CSI. His chest constricted as Nick's face swam up in front of his inner eye, so scared and shocked to see Greg standing there with a bullet in his chest.

And yet that had been the happiest moment of the last four years. When that gun had first pointed in to his face he had had to fight a satisfied smile because it was the release he wasn't able to give himself. He had felt the bullet, a familiar burning sensation, and he knew that it had hit his heart. That burning had made him feel more alive than in longer than he cared to remember, and a calm had passed over him right away. It felt good to know that he finally had an escape, a way to end all of his hurt. The fact that he had gotten to see Nick's face one last time had helped send him off in complete peace. He was sure he had even managed a smile, to let Nick know that everything was ok at long last.

The beeping was becoming more annoying, and Greg could feel it pulling him farther in to a lighted room. So he wasn't dead. He really was here in a hospital. A part of him resented that, wishing nothing more than for release from this harsh world. But he was reasonable; not many people were given as many chances as he was. He would accept this chance as graciously as he had accepted the others and this time he would try to make something useful out of himself.

It took a great many more tries to get his body to respond to his wishes. It felt as if he were made of lead, lying at the bottom of a vat of thick liquid, unable to move even when he wanted to. At first he could not even draw an irregular breath, and his eyes remained shut against his wishes. Greg triumphed in his own mind when he felt his eyelids flickering, trying to respond to his command. The respirator forcing his steady breathing was something he couldn't fight with right now, so this battle to regain sight received all of his efforts. For a few minutes it was hopeless, but then they cracked apart ever so slightly, and he was greeted by a great blur of white and yellow and gray and blue. Hospital colors. His suspicions confirmed, he tried to bring his eyes in to focus.

Different things swam up out of the giant blur, and he recognized that he was in a large bed in a private room without glass walls. That was much appreciated. To his right a large window was open and cheery sunlight streamed in. Light yellow curtains swayed inwards in a gentle breeze, framing a ceramic vase filled with desert flowers. The rest of the windowsill was littered with cards and small gifts, and if he could have smiled, he would have.

Greg's gaze drifted away from the window. His bed stretched out before him, complete with the familiar blue blanket and various tubes coming out of his arms, keeping him stable and steady. His left hand caught his eye because it seemed oddly deformed, which was weird because he hadn't been injured in any way in his hand. It took a lot of concentration, but he managed to blink, which in turn took away much of the residual blur. He wasn't deformed, there was a second hand wrapped up in his, and another was running across his wrist lightly. Greg looked up and saw Nick, his head bowed and crying as steadily as the rhythmic beeping, which he now knew came from his monitors.

Nick looked as if he hadn't slept in days. His clothes were rumpled and he was sporting at least a couple days worth of stubble. There were bags under his eyes, and those eyes were rimmed in red as if he hadn't stopped crying the whole time. He held Greg's hand like a lifeline, running his free fingers over his wrist to draw nonsensical patterns. His lips were moving too, and Greg began listening, suddenly desperate to hear that beloved voice.

"I wrote you a song," he was saying, and Greg's heart monitor gave an extra blip. "Well, I didn't really write it. More like I rewrote it. I know it's probably too late, but I thought I'd sing it for you anyway. Just in case you don't wake up." Greg was torn between fighting with his body to respond to let Nick know he was ok and just lying silent to hear what he had to say. Seeing as any fights he had with his body were going to take a while, it wasn't really hard to make his choice.

He did manage to force his eyes open a little wider, the better to take in the ravaged shell of the man he loved. Nick was shaking slightly, and he looked hungry and tired and hopeless. Greg wondered if that was what he had looked like lately. Then Nick cleared his throat and began to sing in a wavering watery voice.

_I've been sitting here  
Staring at the clock on the wall  
And I've been laying here praying  
Praying she won't call  
It's just another call from home  
And I'll get it and be gone  
And you'll be crying_

Greg would have looked astonished, if he had any control at all over the rest of his face. Could Nick really have done that, just like him? Did he really pray to stay just a little longer, dreading the inevitable phone call? It seemed almost too good to be true to hope that the older man could feel the same way he did, to hope that he hated going home when he could just lay beside Greg instead. Nick paused in his singing to sob a little, his tears still falling at a steady rate. One of them splashed on to Greg's hand and it was like a sensory overload.

It took a few minutes for Nick to regain his composure enough to keep singing, and in those minutes Greg garnered full command over his tired eyes. He began working on the rest of his face, trying to raise his eyebrows, twitch his mouth, anything to show that he was alive.

_And you'll be begging me, baby  
Beg me not to leave  
But you'll be left here waiting  
With your heart on your sleeve  
Oh, for the next time we'll be here  
Seems like a million years  
And I know you're dying_

There was such remorse and sadness in the man's voice that Greg felt his newly cleared eyes beginning to water a little bit. He didn't fight it, he had stopped fighting the tears more than a year ago, but he resented that they made it a little harder to focus on Nick. The strong voice washed over him soothingly, calming him and at the same time urging him further out of the remains of the darkness that clung to his mind.

Was he really so obvious? Was Nick actually aware that he had been hurting Greg all along? It seemed too much to ask that Nick feel the same way as him. All he had ever wanted was to be seen, to be held and comforted. And here he was receiving so much more than that. He wondered if Nick was referring to Greg having to wait for so long each time, or if it felt like a million years to him too. He wondered if Nick didn't lie awake at night to stare at his wife and wish she were him.

_I'm finally seeing all the things you do  
She can't love me like you_

Greg thought his heart might break right there in that hospital bed. Call the doctors and nurses and bring a camera because this was going to be the making of history. Death by a broken heart because Nick was singing everything he had ever wanted him to realize. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard, even if Nick's voice was criminally unsteady and he was crying the whole time. Even if his voice was way off key and kind of quiet. It was still the most wonderful thing he had ever heard, and possibly the most romantic thing anyone in the world had ever said or done. And it was for him. He was hardly able to believe it.

The thought came along in which Greg suddenly had to wonder why Nick had been there at that last moment. Then as soon as he thought it, he knew it had been the song. He had requested it on the radio and told Nick to listen to it. Not out of spite, not to make him feel bad. It was his last 'I love you', a message of the heart sent the only way he could without sending his attackers off to hurt Nick too. And yet Nick had shown up unaware. Had he thought Greg was leaving? Greg's eyes widened when that thought came to him. He had thought Greg was finally going to leave him and was rushing to stop him. His heart broke a little more in the most wonderful way.

_Why don't I stay  
You're down on your knees  
You're so tired of being lonely  
But you give me what I need  
When she calls me to go  
There is one thing that I know  
We don't have to live this way  
Baby, why don't I stay_

A tear slid out from Greg's eye, clearing his vision a little. He tried to sniffle, but his lungs were still beyond his express control, so he settled for blinking rapidly. It was hard to believe that Nick could feel all the same things as him, and yet here he was, singing it for him. Greg had sang him the song in his words, now Nick was singing it back in his own. Greg tried harder to return to the land of the living, fought desperately for control over any body part at all. His right hand gave a small twitch, but it was the wrong hand. Nick was holding to the left, and he hadn't caught the movement. Mainly because his eyes were closed against his tears.

Greg stopped fighting long enough to wonder if Nick had cried before. Was he just realizing now all of these things, or had he felt them all along and never said anything? In either case they were both pretty stupid for letting this stretch out as far as they had. If one of them had spoken up, maybe they could have done something decisive a long time back. Maybe, maybe, maybe, could have, should have, would have. It didn't matter now. All that mattered was letting Nick know that he was here, and that they could both stay.

_I keep telling you, baby  
There will come a time  
When I will leave her arms  
And I'll hold you tight in mine  
But you don't think that's the truth  
And you don't like being used  
And you're tired of waiting  
It's too much pain to have to bear  
To love a man you have to share_

Nick's voice broke and for a moment he buried his head against the unmoving hand he held, sobbing deeply and wildly. His voice reached Greg's ears as he murmured prayers of forgiveness. It wasn't clear whether he was praying to god or Greg, but he looked like he wasn't sure either. Greg's tried again and again, but his left hand absolutely refused to respond. He wondered if it didn't have something to so with being shot in the heart. Heart attacks made your left arm useless, why not being shot there? Suddenly everything he knew about biology was leaking out of his brain, leaving him unable to concentrate on anything but Nick.

It was true; he hadn't ever believed a word Nick had said about leaving his wife or any of that. He had felt it was better to leave well enough alone though. If he called Nick on it, he might leave, and that was something Greg wasn't sure he could stand. So he had played along with the game and thrown in his reasons and suggestions, all the while holding back the one suggestion he really wanted to make. He hated being the other man, but he would continue with it for as long as he was wanted. Every time he told himself just once more, once more then he could be strong. And every time he knew he was lying as much as Nick was pretending.

And it was also true, it was a hell of a lot of pain to have to carry to know that the one he loved heart and soul wasn't all his. He hated sharing Nick, hated that in public they weren't even friends. He longed to stand on the rooftop and shout for the world that they belonged together. He wished with all of his heart that he could stop what he was doing, no matter the time, no matter the place, and take Nick's hand in his just because he was allowed to. Did Nick want that too?

_Why don't I stay  
You're down on your knees  
You're so tired of being lonely  
But you give me what I need  
When she calls me to go  
There is one thing that I know  
We don't have to live this way  
Baby, why don't I stay_

There was a bitterness to Nick's words as if he regretted having passed up all the chances he had been given. As if he wished he had stayed all along. Greg didn't dare hope that now was the time he would. He was almost a professional at not getting his hopes up, because he knew that they had been dashed so often, and he didn't think that he could handle that after such a beautiful song. He watched as Nick opened his eyes, but kept them riveted to the hand he was holding. He momentarily squeezed them shut tight again, his expression anguished. Greg yearned to reach out and comfort him, if only he could convince his arms to work.

Then Nick straightened his back and stared at Greg's hand and his entwined. His expression went from one of deepest pain to strong determination. It was reminiscent of the last time he had heard the words of this song, standing in his living room, although Greg didn't know that. All he knew was that there was something new behind his love's voice as he sang the last verse, where the song rose to its climax point.

_I can't take it any longer  
But my will has gotten stronger  
And I think I know just what I have to do  
I can't waste another minute  
After all that you've put in it  
You've given me your best  
Why don't I give my best to you  
So the next time you wake  
I swear you're pain away I'll take_

They were crying in tandem, and if Greg could have laughed he would. Not because it was funny, or even remotely amusing, but because he was suddenly filled with such a happiness that he wasn't really sure what the feeling was. Maybe he suddenly loved Nick even more, if that was possible at all. His right hand twitched again, and then one more time, and his tears were falling faster. The bicep on his left arm suddenly bulged, contracting and expanding on his command, and he howled in triumph in the confines of his own mind. It was a step closer to his goal. He had to make Nick all better.

He was awake already, and Nick was already draining the pain away, albeit slowly. All the things he had wanted to tell Nick about how this made him feel were dropping like diamonds from the older man's lips and he hadn't had to utter a word. He had figured it all out on his own, and Greg was so relieved that it just made more tears gather and fall. He had his arm flexing and relaxing in time with his commands now, even though Nick still hadn't noticed. He could almost feel his hand. He could almost make everything better.

_Now I can stay  
Get up off your knees  
I'm so sorry you were lonely  
I can give you what you need  
When she begs me not to go  
There's one thing I've always known  
You don't have to live this way  
Baby, I'm gunna stay, yeah_

Nick dropped his head against his chest again and sobbed loudly and brokenly. The sound was so heart wrenching that Greg could take it no longer. He threw every ounce of his will against the walls of his mind, giving it everything he had. And it worked! His left hand twitched ever so slightly, and then agonizingly slowly it curled around Nick's, returning his grip firmly. Nick's eyes flew open and he stared dumbly at it for a few seconds before he looked up. He met Greg's half lidded eyes and stared dumbly still. Then suddenly he cried out softly and raised his free hand to stroke down the side of Greg's face.

When Nick's hand skimmed downwards and avoided the area around his mouth, he finally figured out why he was having trouble interrupting his own breathing pattern, and also why he couldn't seem to move his lips. He was wearing an oxygen mask still, rather than an oxygen tube, and it restricted him slightly. Many parts of his body were slightly numb, leaving him unable to feel the mask resting against his skin. It must be making him look even more vulnerable than he already felt, but he was ok with that so long as Nick was here, looking down at him like that.

Nick gave another muffled sob and leaned forward, pressing his lips in to Greg's hair, even though anybody could have walked by right then. He lingered there, pressing three separate kisses to the blonde hair he loved to play with, and he barely pulled away after. He sat back just enough to look Greg in the eye and let him see the soft fond smile decorating his square jawed face. He looked even more pale and drawn up close than he did sitting three feet away. Greg blinked and he felt a tear knock loose to trickle down his cheek. Nick wiped it away for him, ignoring his own tears.

"Were you listening to me singing?" he asked softly. Greg fought hard, and managed a small nod. "The whole song?" he nodded again, just barely. Nick's face broke in to the biggest smile he possessed and he nodded too, holding tighter to Greg's hand. "Good, then you know how it going to be. It's different this time Greggo."

He looked down at their entwined hands, and Greg would have given the whole world to know what was going through his mind at that moment. His expression was drastically different from only moments ago. He suddenly looked content and relieved, and somewhere in there Greg detected a twinge of happiness. He mirrored that happiness in himself, and he tried to show it by smiling. He wasn't sure if he succeeded or not, not being able to feel it around the mask, but Nick seemed to know he was making an effort because he gave a watery chuckle. Then he drew his face in to a thoughtful look, as if he was drifting back to something.

"When I was little-" he started then paused, looking down and up again. He cleared his throat and made sure that he was looking Greg in the eye as he began again. "When I was little I asked my mother, when I got older, how would I know when I was in love. She smiled at me and she laid her hand on my head, and she asked me when I close my eyes, who do I see?" Nick smiled and he started crying again, softly now. "Do you know who I see when I close my eyes Greggo?"

Greg could only blink at him. Even if he'd had control of all of his body, surely those words alone would have frozen him in place with their awesome power. It was a loaded question, and it wasn't even aimed at him. It seemed more to be aimed back at Nick himself, as if he was challenging his own feelings. Greg wished that he could smile encouragingly, or even furrow his brows questioningly. As it was, he lay still and waited. Nick's smile widened as he ran his hand down Greg's face again, still looking him right in the eye.

"I see this beautiful man with short blonde hair, that's really brown underneath. I see this big pair of velvet brown eyes that can say so little and so much at the same time. I see you Greg. Every time I close my eyes you're there. Every time I go to sleep you're in my dreams. It's always been that way and I don't know why I ever tried to fight it, but I guess I was just stupid. I know I promised you a lot of things over the years, and I know that I never gave you any reason to believe me." Greg could feel more tears sliding down the rim of his mask as he watched his every dream come true. Nick swallowed hard and held on so tight it almost hurt, his other hand burrowing in to Greg's blonde hair. "But it's…it's time. Time that I gave you all those things I promised. Time I gave you everything you deserve."

He took a deep breath. "I'm going to file for divorce. And I'm going to let her have the house. She can have the car, the records, the dog, everything. As long I have you G, there's nothing else I need. You can have all of me, I swear." Greg wished for nothing more at that moment than the strength to pull off his mask and kiss the breath from the man sitting beside him. It seemed like the universe was playing one last cruel prank on him, as if to say 'here, you may have everything you've ever wanted, but you have to pass one last test to get it'. It was beyond frustrating. It was maddening. But instead of dwelling on his inabilities, Greg focused on trying to communicate his happiness and joy through his eyes alone. The eyes that Nick had said could say so much.

Nick was leaning close again and he might have kissed Greg again if not for a gasp coming from the doorway and a familiar voice saying softly "you poor boy". Nick's head whipped around to look behind him, and Greg followed him by rolling his eyes sideways. They were met with the sight of Nick's wife standing in the doorway, looking suitably aghast at seeing her husband's friend laid low. Her long red hair was pulled in to a boring ponytail and she was wearing a sensible white blouse over her conservative jeans. Greg could sense the confusion and wariness radiating from Nick, and he watched him carefully to see what he would do. Nick blinked a couple times to get over his initial surprise, and assumed a calmly neutral face.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. She tilted her head pityingly as she looked at Greg while speaking to her husband.

"You bought me that police scanner so I could understand your job better, remember?" she reminded him. "I heard you saying that someone named Greg had been shot, and you had told me that you were going to see a Greg when you left the house. They've only just now let me up here." Greg heard one of his machines give an excitable blip as his heart skipped at beat when she mentioned that Nick had told her he was going to see 'a Greg'. He had actually told her the truth. The blonde couldn't stop the tears that welled again, but none fell. Nick was silent for a moment.

"We need to talk," he announced suddenly. She was a bit startled by that, but nodded cheerily, unsuspecting. Nick turned back to look Greg in the eye and he gave him a strong, sure smile. "Will you be ok on your own for a while?" he asked. Greg wondered for a moment how to communicate without nodding his head. He settled for blinking, and it made Nick laugh because they had used that when he himself had been in the hospital, so sore he couldn't move. One blink was yes, two blinks was no. He ran a hand tenderly through Greg's hair once more – ran through it, not ruffled it, Greg heard the monitor blip again – and then he stood and led his wife away down then hall.

He was gone for hours, and Greg slept in that time. While he lay awake afterwards a multitude of nurses came and went. He was poked and prodded, and told that he may experience some numbness in various parts of his body. He resisted rolling his eyes, but gave in to the urge to say duh in his head. As if he wasn't already aware that he was numb. But the nurse went on to tell him that it was a dual effect of the drugs, and his body not having access to oxygen for a couple minutes. He almost fainted away when she casually informed him that he had died on the operating table for over five minutes before the defibrillators could bring him back to life.

Eventually the sky outside lightened again, night having gone by while he slept, and with the day came visitors. The whole nightshift came to see him as a group, and he tried his best to smile at them. As it was, all he managed was a small wave of his right fingers, and he was forced to resume communication through blinking. Nodding took much concentration, and a little bit of pain. Grissom told him that his parents were on a flight in from California, and the news gave him an odd sense of safety. The two girls fussed about trying to make him as comfortable as possible and Warrick regaled him with a funny story from their shift that past night.

They were all still there a few more hours later when the door opened and a severely haggard looking Nick stepped through. The crew had all expressed their curiosity for where he had been, but Greg hadn't been able to tell them. Not that he would have; he was unsure of exactly what was happening between them right now. But when Nick stepped in to the room, he bluntly ignored their immediate questions and hurried to step up to Greg. They regarded each other for a moment, and Greg could see that, behind the tired face and the weary eyes, Nick looked happy. He looked almost freed.

"You think you can breathe without that thing on your face?" he asked. Greg blinked the affirmative, his eyes curious. Nick grinned and leaned down over him. He gently pulled the mask away and Greg took a couple breaths to get used to the impure air entering his lungs. Then Nick was leaning in ever closer. "I'm all yours now. Now and forever. All of me. Fucking…finally." And then, right there in front of all of their friends, he kissed him.

Greg's eyes flew wide open, but it lasted less then a second before he closed them in pure bliss. It appeared that he had been wrong. Perhaps his life really was one of those fairytales that had a happy ending, because here he was kissing Nick Stokes in front of others without a care in the world except that he couldn't fully reciprocate. When Nick pulled away, he caressed the now bare side of Greg's face, cupping his cheek, and rubbing his thumb along the lips that he had held in secret for so long. He wore a giant smile and there was a wonderful light in his eyes.

"She doesn't want the house," he mentioned casually. "Says it's tainted. How do you feel about living in a tainted house?" Amazingly, Greg felt his face respond to him, stretching in to a warm content smile, and he nodded once. Nick leaned in and placed a second gentle kiss on his lips and he was able to kiss back slightly. He thought that was a bigger triumph than becoming a CSI. Then Nick straightened and took his hand, and they turned to face their friends. Together.


End file.
